Fox Play
by Corbin Slate
Summary: A young Zorro finds himself torn between the people that need him and the needs of his father. Based on the WD Zorro


_A/N: This fic has been in the works since I very first got out of high school (seven years ago!). I have always loved Zorro, so here's my little tribute to a great character. Please share your thoughts. :) _

It was in the early hours of the morning, and things were peaceful at the de la Vega hacienda. At least things seemed peaceful from the outside. Servants were cheerfully completing their daily tasks, taking care of livestock and keeping the grounds properly groomed. Everyone at the hacienda was looking forward to the return of Don Diego, everything needed to be flawless when he got back. Diego had been away, studying at a university in Spain. Now he was finally going to come home. Don Alejandro was relieved that his only son was at last coming back to California, the hacienda had not been the same without Don Diego. A lot had changed in Los Angeles since Diego had gone to Spain.

The government of Los Angeles was nearly totally corrupt, were it not for the influence of Don Alejandro and the other Dons, Los Angeles would have been totally lost forever. Don Alejandro had written his son about the way their pueblo had suddenly changed, and how he hoped that when Diego returned that things could have changed back to the way that they had been. Diego told his father not to worry, he wasn't going to abandon his home because of the way the people had been corrupted. Diego reassured his father that if they stuck together Los Angeles would eventually take care of itself.

Diego had to stop by the commandante's office to check in with Sergeant Garcia.

"Hola, Sergeant Garcia. I am here to check in with you to have your permission, if I may, to return home in Los Angeles. The corporal has already checked our luggage, we have no contraband."

The Sergeant was occupied filling out some tedious paperwork; he didn't want to be interrupted by some stupid young man. Garcia glanced up at Diego and then continued to fill out his documents. Diego took a seat in front of the desk where Garcia was seated. The Sergeant wanted the guy to just leave him alone, but Diego wasn't leaving until the Sergeant granted him permission to stay in Los Angeles. The Sergeant sighed when he realized the stubborn young man wasn't going to just leave because he was being ignored. Don Diego smiled as he watched the Sergeant's expression as Garcia grumbled something under his breath.

"Travel papers please Señor." The Sergeant held out a plump hand and snatched the papers from Diego. The Sergeant skimmed over the papers, it was clear he wasn't really interested in the contents, and hastily handed them back to Diego. "Thank you Señor you may go now." Garcia waved Diego away as though he were a pesky fly.

"It is good to see you again too Sergeant." The Sergeant looked up and finally took a good look at Diego. His memory finally clicked, Diego grinned.

"Don Diego? Is it really you?" Garcia stood to shake hands with his friend.

"How have you been, Sergeant?" Diego happily released Garcia's hand and patted him on the shoulder affectionately.

"Oh, everything is all right," Garcia paused, something must have been wrong, but he wasn't willing to tell Diego what the matter was. "Well, things are no worse than usual." Garcia came out from behind the desk.

"Perhaps if you can pry yourself away from your paperwork for a moment, we can have a drink in the tavern."

Garcia beamed, gladly he accompanied Diego to the cantina. Don Diego settled down at his favorite table. The Sergeant sat across from Diego. Diego signaled to one of the barmaids. A moment later she brought them a bottle of wine and two glasses. Diego pulled the cork from the bottle, he poured a glass of wine for Garcia and one for himself.

"It is good to be back in California again, Sergeant," Diego said as he sipped his glass of wine, enjoying every drop of it.

"Sí, it is good to have you back again Diego." The Sergeant could barely get a word in between gulps of wine. Diego watched as Garcia filled his glass for a second time and guzzled down the wine as though he would never have another glass again in his lifetime. Diego hadn't even finished his first glass, the Sergeant was now working on his third.

"Slow down Sergeant. The wine will not run away from us." Diego chuckled. The Sergeant then realized how ravenous he was being and attempted to slurp more slowly.

"I am sorry Don Diego, but it has been a long time since I have been able to have a drink with such a good friend." The Sergeant smiled sheepishly.

"No, please don't apologize. I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself. By the way Sergeant have you seen my Father recently?" Don Diego changed the subject gracefully, and wished that he hadn't made Garcia feel so self-conscious.

"Oh, yes Don Diego. I have seen Don Alejandro many times in the pueblo. He has kept very busy. He seems to be in excellent health though."

"Good, I'm pleased to hear it." Diego finally finished off his drink and dropped a few coins on the table as he stood up to leave.

"Uh, Don Diego, are you leaving already? You paid for the bottle, don't you want to finish it with me?"

Diego smiled warmly, the Sergeant hadn't changed a bit. "No, I'm sorry, I'm afraid I must leave. You are welcome to finish the bottle for me. I have to go see my Father."

Diego walked out of the tavern and met up with his personal servant and friend Bernardo. Bernardo had traveled with Diego to Spain. Bernardo was a mute, he was very helpful at times when people spoke freely in front of him because the believed he could not hear. Bernardo kept Diego informed on the happenings in Los Angeles. There had been several occasions when Diego had been angry enough to want to travel home to give the Governor of Los Angeles just what he really thought of him and how he was treating the people that paid for all of his possessions. Bernardo proved to be the silent voice of reason.

Diego swiftly mounted his horse taking the reins from Bernardo.

"Come on, let's go home." Diego wheeled his horse and they took off for the hacienda, leaving a thick veil of dust behind them.

Diego felt a rush of relief as they reached the beginning of his father's land. The land hadn't changed a great deal at all, and that was strangely comforting to Diego. They rode inward toward the heart of the land where the ranch house was located. Diego felt as though he had never left home, it was a wonderful feeling to be back where he belonged, in California.

The two rode to the outer wall that surrounded the house and its inner courtyards. They dismounted their horses, walked in through the front gate and headed for the house. Diego sauntered into his house through the front door. Bernardo followed after his master.

Don Alejandro was in his study cursing the latest tax that had the citizens on the verge of rioting. The door slamming shut snapped Alejandro aware of his surroundings. He immediately went to the front door to welcome whoever had just invited themselves into his home, without even having the decency to knock first.

Alejandro looked prepared to wage war, then he realized who the intruder was and completely turned his mood around. "Diego, my Son! Is it really you? You've changed so much! I am so glad to see you again. The hacienda has not been the same without you." Alejandro beamed with happiness. Diego embraced his father warmly.

"I am glad to see you again too, Father. It is so good to be back where I belong," Diego said as he released his father. Diego's stomach growled loudly, loud enough to make Alejandro chuckle. Diego rubbed his belly to stop the gurgling.

"Don't worry we will be eating supper soon. Why don't you go and wash up, perhaps you might take a siesta. You both look exhausted, we can speak later, go get a little rest."

"I guess it was quite a journey. It will be pleasant to sleep in my own bed again." After a few moments Diego and Bernardo walked out of the Sala and to the inner gardens that led to the stairway to Diego's room.

Diego locked his door behind him, he didn't want any of his father's inquisitive servants barging in on him. "Bernardo, you go and get my saddlebags. You know the ones. Be certain no one sees the contents, well just try not to be seen at all. When you return the bags to me you are free to go wherever you wish until dinner." Diego's voice was low, quiet and very serious.

Bernardo left Diego's room and headed for the stables where the servants had put their horses away. The saddle was put away in the tack shed that was right next to the stable, the saddlebags had not been touched. Quickly Bernardo grabbed the saddlebags and raced back to Diego's room.

"Did anyone see you?" Diego took the bags and smiled when Bernardo shook his head, he hadn't been seen. "All right, you are free to go."

Bernardo headed for his own quarters, which were a few doors down from Diego's room. Diego locked the door once more.

The saddlebags were hung over his shoulder, he needed to get rid of them in a little while. Diego lit a candle, walked over to the fireplace and reached down under the corner of the mantle. He found the secret switch that opened the passage to the hiding place he had discovered a few years ago. The passage had access to every room with spy holes. The only other entrance to the lair was in the silver closet in the sala.

Silently he entered his dark lair. Diego found the lantern that he had left near the entrance, quickly he lit the lantern with the candle flame. The candle was blown out and left near the door. Diego traced his way down to the heart of the lair, which was like a big basement under the house. The place was perfect for Diego's plans.

Now it was time to do some quick housekeeping. Diego cleaned out the stall for an escape mount (that hadn't been used in years). He filled the stalls buckets, one with fresh water he brought in from a well outside the cave's hidden exit, the others with hay and oats.

Diego then remembered the saddlebags. He popped them open and withdrew a long black satin cape, it fit a lot like a western duster (there were armholes so the thing stayed put during a serious fight) it hit just above his ankles when he put it on and tied the cord around his neck. Next he pulled a shirt out. It was made of fine silk, with long sleeves that pillowed out meeting in at the gauntlet cuffs. The shirt was perfect for fighting and riding. And lastly he had a bandit's mask it was tailor made for him. It was a bandanna that tied around his head and pulled down over his face concealing his identity.

Diego put his cloak, shirt, and mask next to the scabbard and fencing sword he had traded for before he had left for Spain. The black hat he had acquired from one of the shops in Monterey and the black pants no one would have realized they were from the local tailor, the fine boots were a gift from Diego's father, but everyone had a pair of black boots, and they all look the same when anyone wears them. Of course to really give them scrutiny, someone was going to have to capture him first!

Zorro would ride tonight for what would be the first time. He only hoped that his people would welcome his help.

The reception that Zorro received from the people of the pueblo was better than he had expected. He had boosted their low morale considerably. There was talk amongst the people in the taverns as well as the guards. The people were appreciative, while the guards who had faced Zorro were a little shocked. His skill with a sword and a horse had proved most formidable.

Diego smiled. Even his hacienda had heard of Zorro. His father talked of him once or twice, but Diego listened and pretended that the subject of a rebel bored him. A dangerous life was the life of a fool, he told his father.

_Several months later..._

Zorro grinned and bowed to the baffled soldiers as they retreated. He hadn't even wounded anyone tonight. The soldiers had been easy to face and defeat. Perhaps they were weary from all the patrols the alcalde was sending them on to hunt for Zorro.

The young woman he had helped thanked him with a smile. He smiled back and whistled for Tornado, halting when she called out to him.

"Señor Zorro, I wish that there was someway I could repay you."

"Your thanks are payment enough, Señorita."

She frowned, not agreeing with him at all. "Perhaps you could come in for a drink. You must be tired after all that fighting."

Really, he wasn't tired yet. He had scarcely broken a sweat. His hand gripped the saddle horn loosely. He should mount up and ride away. The girl probably didn't have enough food for her family, let alone wasting it on Zorro.

"Please, Zorro. I know it isn't much, but I would like to do something for you."

He could sense in the tone of her voice that she really wanted to repay him. He sighed and shook his head, and then turned with a smile. "I suppose a drink would not hurt, eh Señorita?"

Inside the small shack there were two bedrooms. The main one that connected to the kitchen, eating area and some one's sleeping quarters, while the other room was simply a bedroom that had probably been added on later as the family outgrew a one room home. Zorro sat at the table where the young lady directed him. She set a cup of wine, a hunk of stale bread and a bit of sharp cheese in front of him. She poured water for herself and sat across from him to nibble on a bit of bread too.

Zorro sipped at the wine. It tasted slightly different. Perhaps it was homemade. He noticed that she was watching his face for a reaction and smiled, not wanting to offend her.

"Do you like it, Señor Zorro?"

He smiled and nodded. It wasn't the worst wine that he had ever drank anyway. He could already feel the warmth from the wine seeping into his body. The pleasant drowsiness was sweeping over him so quickly, probably from the adrenaline coursing through him from the brief fight with the soldiers. He ate the cheese, and drank down the rest of the wine, declining when she asked if he would like more. One glass seemed to have been more than enough for tonight.

Zorro stood and swayed slightly on his feet. He felt tipsy. After one glass! He blinked at the fuzz clouding his vision. What in the world was the matter with him? Was he such a lightweight that he could no longer handle one glass of wine? Zorro swallowed and stumbled out of the small house. He could hear the girl following him.

As he stepped out of the door, Zorro froze. Standing there waiting for him were the men that he thought had run off in fright. He swore under his breath. No wonder they had been so easy to best tonight.

"I'm sorry, Señor," the young woman said softly. "I had no choice in the matter."

Well, that made two of them. The soldiers made room as Zorro drew his rapier to fight.

Among them Sergeant Garcia instructed his men to take care. "We are to take him alive señores. Do not forget that." Garcia could see that the young lady had done well, as Zorro was staggering among them. He almost felt badly for the bandit. Aside from embarrassing him, Zorro really hadn't done more than defend the people of the pueblo. The men stood by and waited.

As Zorro whistled for his horse, he heard the familiar whinny, but no hoof beats. There was some shouting nearby and cursing from a soldier. Finally, the animal came to him, snorting in displeasure. Tornado made his way between the soldiers and to his master. Zorro dizzily swung up into the saddle, holding on to Tornado for all he was worth, as the soldiers yelled and grabbed for him. The reins to Tornado's bridle seemed to be broken, but Zorro had no need of them. He trusted Tornado to take him home. The horse took off as if he sensed that his master was unable to give the command under his own power.

Tornado would have carried his master into the cave, had Zorro been able to keep his grip on his mane long enough. Instead, Zorro dropped to the dirt with a rough thud in front of the gate to the de la Vega hacienda. Tornado stood near his master and nudged the man with his muzzle. The animal snorted in alarm when he sensed someone approaching from the inside of the walls. Bernardo!

Bernardo waved Tornado away, silently telling the horse to go and wait in the cave. Tornado obeyed with a parting nicker, and Bernardo knelt to search Zorro for fresh wounds. There were no bullet holes or saber slashes to indicate any hurt. Gently, Bernardo prodded Zorro's chest for broken ribs, and then his head for signs of a blow to the skull. Nothing!

So why then did Zorro not respond to his attempts to rouse him?

Bernardo froze at the sound of Alejandro's approaching voice. The elder Vega had heard the noise of Tornado's approach, and was curious as to who would visit him at such an odd hour of the night. Desperately Bernardo grabbed Zorro beneath his arms in an attempt to drag his limp body to the cave. Perhaps it had not been the best idea to dismiss Tornado so early. His help in carrying Zorro would have been appreciated now. Bernardo heaved Zorro back with all his strength, only managing to drag him about two feet.

As Bernardo stood catching his breath, Alejandro called out and held up his lantern in the dark of the evening. Bernardo tried once more to pull Zorro away and failed. Carefully, he set his master down and stepped forward to try and intercept Alejandro. Alejandro started at the sight of Bernardo. Bernardo blinked at the glow of the lantern, and immediately attempted to shepherd Alejandro away from where he would be able to spot Zorro. Alejandro was not easily deterred; he knew that he had heard the sound of a horse only moments ago.

From the shadows, Alejandro caught sight of the soles of the black boots Zorro wore. "Who is that?" Alejandro asked as he pushed past a flustered Bernardo. "Zorro!" Alejandro exclaimed, drawing nearer. "But why is he here?" Alejandro knelt next to the younger man and felt to make sure that he was still breathing. "Come Bernardo, we must get him inside." Alejandro motioned that Bernardo should take Zorro's legs.

Bernardo gulped and obeyed. They carried the young man into the hacienda and put him on a couch in the sala.

"Bernardo, go fetch some towels, warm water and a blanket," Alejandro commanded.

Bernardo conveniently feigned deafness, and ignored the order. After a moment Alejandro decided against try to sign what he wanted, and settled for getting the supplies he wanted on his own. Once Bernardo was alone with Zorro, he tried shaking him and even lightly hitting his cheeks to rouse him, but the man didn't even stir. Bernardo nibbled at his lower lip and wondered what fate awaited his young master.

"Easy Bernardo," Alejandro said softly as he set the supplies down near Zorro. Gently, Alejandro patted Bernardo on the shoulder to encourage him. Alejandro removed Zorro's scabbard and slid his cloak off, setting it aside in an untidy bundle. He then removed the man's boots and gloves, noting how upset Bernardo was growing. He couldn't see the reason for the other man's trembling, because in this state Zorro was harmless. "Shall we unmask him, Bernardo? I have heard that there is a generous reward offered for his capture." Really Alejandro had no intention of turning Zorro in to the authorities, but that didn't stop him from wanting to know who the masked man was.

Alejandro swore aloud when the basin of warm water suddenly tipped into his lap. Momentarily distracted, Alejandro reached for a towel to dry himself. Zorro's fingers curled weakly and then relaxed. Alejandro thought perhaps it was just his muscles reacting out of reflex, but maybe the young man was going to regain himself soon. Alejandro had a sudden urge to move Zorro, to lock him up in one of the spare rooms until he was sure that the young bandit didn't mean anyone in the hacienda any harm.

Bernardo didn't want to move Zorro again, as he would probably be confused enough as things were when he woke. He covered Zorro with the blanket that Alejandro had brought and pretended not to hear Alejandro again. Alejandro let out an irritated sigh and went to fetch Diego from his room, to get him to help with the burden of moving Zorro. It was only moments later when Alejandro returned alone, and by the expression on his face, he was not a happy man.

"Diego is not in his room!" Alejandro exclaimed. "Where could he have gone to at this hour!"

Gently, Bernardo began to smooth out the creases in the silk of Zorro's cloak. For Alejandro the pieces started to fall together. Bernardo's strange behavior... the lax form of the Fox on his couch... his son missing at such an odd time. Alejandro thought back to all the times when he had glimpsed the bandit, and Diego had never been there with him to witness it.

As far as Alejandro knew, his son's interest in weapons was only to argue how distasteful and uncivilized it was to engage in combat. Still, Diego was very intelligent. It would only make sense that he would want to put as much of a barrier between himself as Diego and the Fox. The build was so similar, the mischievous grin was awfully familiar too. Alejandro felt his heart quicken. Would his son really have risked his reputation and his life for this existence in hiding?

Fencing was a gentleman's sport, and Alejandro could not think of many in the pueblo who would be able to afford the proper instruction. Not to mention that Alejandro did not know of anyone in Los Angeles who would be able to teach something like fencing properly. For this one would have to go to Spain, and the only person that Alejandro knew of who had been to Spain recently was Diego. Calm and passive Diego as el Zorro?

"Come Bernardo, help me get him to his room," Alejandro said as he grasped Zorro beneath the arms once more. Reluctantly, when Alejandro made it very clear what he wanted by demonstrating, Bernardo gave his help.

From behind the shelter of his mask, Diego groaned and slowly opened his eyes. His head pounded harshly, and he had to shut his eyes again for a moment to allow his body time to adjust to the pain. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself.

"Here, drink this," a very familiar voice said softly.

Diego felt a warm ceramic cup being pressed into his hands. The liquid inside was hot. Diego sat up and sniffed at the drink first. He recognized the faint scent of chamomile. He took a small drink and sat back against his headboard, recognizing that he was in his own bedroom. He didn't recall much after mounting Tornado from last night, other than holding on for dear life. His father sat near his bed, watching with a shrewd expression.

"Would you like to explain what is going on?"

Diego took another drink to give himself a moment to think. Did his father know that he was Zorro? The man had had plenty of time to remove his mask and replace it. "I trusted someone when I shouldn't have. I'm not entirely certain of everything that happened last night."

"Why do you risk everything to become this masked bandit? You are seen as a criminal to the law!"

"Yes, I know that. The people of Los Angeles needed something to believe in, and I wanted to help them."

"At what expense?"

Diego shrugged uncomfortably. He had put aside his own wants and needs for the needs of his people. It had been the only right thing to do in his mind at the time. "The sacrifices I make are only temporary. When California sees a just leader, the people will no longer need Zorro, and I will be able to do as I wish."

Alejandro let out a heavy sigh. "And if that justice does not come?" He did not wait for Diego to answer. "You risk your life... for something that no one in the pueblo may live to see."

"I had to do something."

Alejandro nodded, though he did not look pleased. "When were you going to tell me, Diego?"

At the sound of his name, Diego stiffened for a second and then relaxed.

"I know that you are not a child anymore, but I would like my son to grow old enough to give me grandchildren."

"Father-"

"No, Diego, let me finish." Diego opened his mouth to protest and then let it snap shut. "Taking on the guise of this bandit will only earn you an early grave and a faded memory of the people that you managed to help."

'Father, you don't realize... I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. It would have been dangerous for you to know my secret, and I didn't want you to worry."

"You do not have to protect me, my son. What if you had been captured, or killed?"

Diego looked down into his steaming cup of tea. He had written a letter to explain everything, but now even his well thought out words seemed hollow as he went over them in his mind.

"Try to see the situation from my eyes, Diego. My only son, risking execution or a prison sentence more times than you can probably count."

"I was trying to do what was right," Diego sighed wearily. "Father, I do not know what you want me to do. First you act as though you want action from me. Now that you have discovered the method of my service to our people, you balk. Forgive me, but I cannot be both a pacifist and a warrior."

"It seems you were playing both roles quite well, my son. You had me fooled until last night."

Diego winced, and reached up to yank off his mask. He set his jaw, determined not to argue about this anymore. Both men looked up when Bernardo walked into Diego's room with a tray full of food. Diego smiled gratefully at Bernardo as the quiet man put a tray of soup and bread in front of Diego. He sipped the soup and let the salty warmth make its way to his belly.

"Were you injured last night, Diego?"

"No, just incapacitated."

"How did it happen?"

"Someone offered me a drink as thanks for helping them. I should have refused. If it weren't for Tornado, that probably would have been my last cup of wine. I won't make a mistake such as that again." Well, he hoped not anyway. "I was lucky it wasn't poison."

"So you plan to go on playing this hero? Even when you know how I feel about it?"

"Father, I can't let a single misstep keep me from my promise to help the people."

A single mistake. That would be all it would take to steal his only child away from him. Alejandro could feel tears gathering in his eyes. "You cannot right the world, Diego."

Diego looked away. "You have to understand. They need me."

"I need you too. Diego, you are all that I have left." With that Alejandro stood and walked out of the room, leaving Diego alone.

_TBC _


End file.
